


Songbird

by drunkdragon



Series: Siren AU [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Bodyguard, F/M, Magic, Modern, Qrow is a Siren, Secret Societies, Tags will grow if the story continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 04:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18335993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkdragon/pseuds/drunkdragon
Summary: A strange request brings Winter out onto an abrupt mission - one that she wishes she had more sleep for.





	Songbird

_ It comes and goes like winter snows _ __  
_ Fierce and fleeting, never quiet _ __  
_ It always shows _ __  
_ Your love is nothing if not cold _ _  
_ __ Unforgettable

It was from an old song, a remake of the original. The lyrics were tacky, even for the time period that it was from.

_ You’re distant ‘til you’re here _ __  
_ The breath of a coming storm _ __  
_ And that’s all I want from you _ __  
_ It’s the norm _ _  
_ __ I just can’t let you go

And yet there was something in the words, in the way the piano softly played in the background. The original piece was accompanied by string instruments, as was common at the time, and it seemed to try and sound mournful. But now it was more of a person’s musings, as if lovestruck.

_ And when I feel your chill _ __  
_ My body shakes _ __  
_ It’s the storm, the surge _ __  
_ My nerves lay still _ _  
_ __ I’m ruined by you

The singer’s interpretation was, for better or for worse, good.

General Ironwood paused the meeting. “Are you still with me, Winter?”

Her eyes scrunched together. The earlier-than-usual morning was still taking its toll upon her. Cooped up in the basement of an ‘abandoned’ office building, the sterile white walls and fluorescent lights were harsh upon her blue eyes. She might have had her morning coffee already, but that didn’t meant it was working its magic yet. “I was rushed over at your request, sir. I suppose I’m still a bit tired from the trip over. Continue please.”

The old general leveled his eyes with her before giving a nod. “This is Qrow Branwen. I won’t wax poetic on his history - you’ve been with us long enough to know that anyone we bring up is under suspicion of not being fully human.” He pressed a button, and an image slowly sharpened onto a projector screen, revealing a man that looked to be in his early to mid forties. Dark hair, graying just at the sides, and a bit of a stubble, he matched the imagery of a man that could be just charming enough to get away with something.

“The case with him, though, is unusual. Most of the time, we function as quiet observers. The non-humans know of our existence and we don’t need to do any policing. However, he reached out to us for protection services.” The screen changed, this time revealing him at events in a black tuxedo, sometimes with another person, but usually alone. “And while we normally wouldn’t act in this situation, Branwen is a rising musician celebrity in our world. A lot of eyes are watching him, so our hand might be forced here. In addition, he’s offered a payment for our services, which includes a hefty advance if we take on the task. Any questions so far?”

Her lips pursed together, teeth raking across the top behind it. Asking for protection was not uncommon, and it was often turned down. They were observers and keepers of peace after all, not a task force. “There has to be more behind this. We wouldn’t be taking on a simple protection job without a good reason.”

The soft hum of magical gears and rotors spinning and humming to the rise and fall of his chest. “You’re right.” He looked her in the eye. “We’re taking on this case because Branwen implicated that he is a siren.”

She blinked. “A what?”

“A siren.” The screen changed again, this time portraying a series of pottery and art from older civilizations. “Greek and Roman mythology were among the first to describe these creatures, though facts often vary between the sources. Some depict them as similar to mermaids, others as avian amalgamations. And while most pieces depicted them as both male and female, over time it has portrayed them as female.”

“And he’s claiming that they exist and he’s one.” She found herself staring at the screen again. 

“Indeed. In the end, we don’t know much about them, and if they’ve been this secretive about their existence, who knows how long they have been in the background.” Ironwood took a deep breath. “And that brings us to why we brought you in on such short notice. This is our potential first contact with a siren, and we want you to facilitate the relationship, maybe even make an ally out of him. Who knows how his powers could benefit us, after all.”

“And do we have any grounds to believe what he says?” she said, keeping her eyes on his pictures, looking for any unusual tells that would give himself away.

Nothing.

“There isn’t much outside of his word.” Ironwood clicked over to the next slide, leading to pictures of him singing in concerts and events. “But given his public profile as a rising singer, there’s reason to believe him.” 

“How do we know it’s not a trap?”

A long breath. “We don’t. We staked out his apartment-” the screen switched to reveal a posh building, “and so far nothing unusual. Unless we use more invasive techniques, we can’t pick out anything else for now.”

Familiar words, but it came with the business. With one last blink, she rose from her seat. “I’ll get started then.”

Ironwood nodded before standing up as well. “His request seemed urgent, so you’ll be flying out late tonight. When you arrive in Vale, you’ll be checking in at the branch to pick up a body monitor before heading over to arrive at thirteen hundred hours local time. He knows we’re coming, so he should be expecting you.”

“Understood.”

He looked her in the eye. “And remember, Winter, werewolves might be a dime a dozen and we’re long past the age of shipwrecks. But if there’s one thing to be aware of, it's that sirens are born to sing. Be careful.”

* * *

“I mean, he even  _ told _ me he was expecting someone, and here you are, at the time he told me, so-”

Even though it was a redeye flight, taking off at three in the morning, it was impossible for her to sleep. The seat was uncomfortable, and sleeping upright was never easy to begin with. And once she touched down in Vale, it was business as usual. Check in with headquarters and get her body monitor, check into her cheap hotel. Sit in a car for half an hour to go ten miles.

“Sometimes I think he does this on purpose, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Walk into an apartment complex, and suffer through the unlucky attendant’s third attempt page his apartment. 

Nothing.

“Come on,  _ pick up _ .”

Winter sighed, taking a moment to rub her eye. This was taking too long. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see if I can get in contact with my agency and get them to reach out to Branwen. Thank you, though.”

With a little more than a nod, she left the front doors of the lobby. Making her way out of the complex, her eyes scanned for any security cameras or staff. Once she made sure that she was out of sight, she began to let her magic work. She could feel her body shifting, becoming as light as air and blue like the sky.

With a tiny flash, she was gone, traversing through walls and floors until she was sure she was at the right one. Sensing that no one was by, she let the spell fall away, her body rematerializing in the posh hallway lights and at his apartment door. Her hand slipped into her coat, and she turned on her body monitor. “I’m in, commencing rendezvous.”

A tiny voice fed into her ear confirming that they got her message, and she was alone again. With a heavy blink of her eyes, she rang the doorbell in front of her.

Nothing. Again. Winter didn’t even hear a tone on the other end. For all she knew, the button could have been broken. And with a few more presses in vain, it might as well be.

No matter. Blinking her eyes and doing her best to ignore the scratch of sleep, she let herself slip through the cracks of the doorway again. Instead of letting herself shift back, however, she remained in her wispy, ethereal state. No one would be able to see her like this, so some recon of her own sounded appropriate.

So far, the grandiose apartment seemed silent. But if she strained her ears, there was something soft in the air, striking through at odd, unusual intervals. Simple. Elegant. And maybe another word she couldn’t think of at the time being.

Might as well take a peak. She drifted through the air, going through the few short halls to encounter a wide open area. One side was a television, two couches posed like an L, and a coffee table. To the other side was a piano, and at its front was the man she saw on the slides - dark hair, sharp red eyes. Qrow Branwen.

\As he played, fingering each key until they became a cohesive rhythm and tune, his lone humming echoed with the chords. Sometimes he would pause, but just as quickly he would pick up again. The tune might change, the keys might alter, but the tones of his unsung piece remained the same.

Winter didn’t really understand it. Music was taught to her at a young age, but now it was just a bygone afterthought. She couldn’t find the C key for the life of her, and she didn’t bother trying to stay in tune when following her favorite piece on the radio.

In fact, she didn’t remember much of it at all. Couldn’t remember the instrument she tried to pick up as a part of her class.

Another sharp blink, another breath, another step closer, Winter’s shoes gently clacking against the floor. Blink. Again. The jet lag must have been catching up to her. Shaking her head, she tried to focus on Qrow, but the only thing that seemed to register was his humming.

Her foot moved towards him, and her gaze drooped down. She was by the couch. For whatever reason, he started playing in earnest, his hums becoming more and more intense. Maybe this was why he wasn’t answering when the front desk paged him. He was too busy at work.

Surely he wouldn’t mind if she took a seat. She was a guest and they were supposed to have a meeting after all. Yes. Yes, that would be fine. He would stop, and they would talk and figure out this business. 

Stay. Take a seat. Get comfortable.

Stay. Listen.

Rest. Enjoy.

Another soft hum.

Sleep.

* * *

When Winter first came to, she didn’t snap into action. Even though she was in an unfamiliar place at an unknown time, something felt peaceful. Whatever she was on was soft, softer than the bed she had at her own apartment halfway across the continent. Same with the blanket - warm and comforting. Safe.

Her immediate choice was to tuck the blankets around her again, roll over, and go back to sleep. Return to the land of warm and soft.

One tiny thing broke the spell, however.

“Arf!”

She felt her eyes snap open, and everything was wrong. This wasn’t her apartment. This wasn’t her blanket. This wasn’t her couch.

(In fact, Winter didn’t even  _ have _ a couch.)

Quickly rolling over, she came face to face with a black and white dog - some kind of corgi.

“Arf!”

If there was one thing she knew she didn't have, it was a  _ dog _ .

And to make matters worse, a pair of hands entered her vision to set down a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

This was  _ really _ bad.

“Courtesy of my nieces, and an apology of sorts for missing our meeting.” Her eyes traveled up the arms and settled onto his sharp red eyes. “I got carried away with my work and, well, I guess it might have carried you in as well.”

It was like being caught red-handed. She tried to hide her embarrassment long enough to figure out a way to venture forth into the conversation, “Qrow Branwen, then, I assume?”

“That’s me,” his eyes scanned over her briefly, and despite the blanket around her she felt painfully naked, worsening the heat on her cheeks. “I’d shake your hand, but, well…”

She gave a huff. Might as well take the out he gave her. Slipping her arm over the blanket, she extended her hand. “Winter Schnee, Officer and Specialist of the Protectorate.”

**Author's Note:**

> Time for some Qrowin! Sadly not sure if this will continue, but it does set a good premise for more in the future. We'll just have to see how long the idea refuses to leave me.
> 
> There might, however, be an additional piece in the future...


End file.
